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Scratches on hidden walls

One of the themes for this post was supposed to be about fears, those frightened emotions somebody might have because of unexpected, usually, or even sudden and out of the program events. That could be the general idea you might get from this introduction.

But I would like to talk about a major thing that could have made me feel insecure many times in the past. And that is the possibility of lack of control over something.

Being a youngster with my mind over my head, daydreaming during most of the lectures in my school or even expressing myself through “creative projects” (as I like to call my sketches despite the outcome of the illustration) but being the older brother in my family, I prefered having everything as I wanted in my own way, with my own terms.

And then, it comes. Million of possible scenarios running in my head. Until the final countdown, each and every incident that could happen, will pass by my thoughts. Even if everything is running smoothly, I will not relax until the printing bell for the end.

That could only be good if you try to get yourself engaged with one thing. But for me, my enthusiasm might take over and I will try to catch up with everything. And then, hopefully, I will not lose the Control completely over them.

Do you prefer coffee or tea? The one with flavour or the common but with pure aroma? Maybe a juice to taste the scents of different fruits? Or are you a particular fan of sparkling water?

But I would like to take you out for a while, to a coffee shop close to the sea, since my city offers a lot of spots for discussions where the waves curl over and dissolve into foam. No loud musical playing on the background, only voices chattering for old and new, good hopefully, untold news.

If we were having coffee right now, you could have seen a grownup adult. Well, I have my moments from time to time, you know how it goes. Better age outside and keep an inner self that think a bit childish and younger than its age, the opposite might not end up well.

If we were having coffee right now, I could tell about my university years, how time passed so fast, and today you could have found me with a bachelor and a master, ready to conquer the world, as I first imagined. Nothing could be taken for granted and nothing is impossible, but need courage and strong will to achieve.

If were having coffee right now, I would have brought my laptop with me. You can’t imagine how many photos I might have in different albums from places you haven’t visited before. Of course, there are still countries and cities I’d love to visit but we could make a start before there will be too many of them.

If we were having coffee right now, I could share with you my dreams and fears, especially the last one. What are my chances in here, how could I move on or leave for the unknown and fight as long as I stand. The excitement tries to balance with my deep concerns about the future I imagine and with who I long, you might say.

If we were having coffee right now, I would probably leave you to speak more than I used to. They keep telling me that I prefer to discuss about personal matters, stealing the spotlight without giving your talking partner the chance to respond or even change to another subject he/she might prefer more. But in our coffee meeting, I could shut my mouth for a while and listen to you. And you know, everything will be on me!

∗The idea was taken from three different blogs, those of Jessica, Amber and Kate . Thank you for the inspiration and I could only admire the work they have done with their blogs! And as they may say, what would like to share if you were having coffee right now with somebody you miss?

Brewed coffee in a lot, jazz playing on the background and nobody around to interupt, a cozy feeling that could trigger a beginning. The start of that story, with the following paragraphs deciphering the mystery that was left luring until that time.

An ideal atmosphere, don’t you think? As it should be, since writers need that space to explore their inner thoughts and fantasies. Many of them might work in the night or luring those early mornings when most of us are still sleeping, if not yawning. Others prefer the presence of human beings around them, their company along with those coffee noises.

But personally, I can’t survive in the silence neither in coffee shops. I have found myself writing while I’m in the bus, talking by the sea or among people being in a hurry. Images that come and go as I am on the move, could be proved to be the perfect piece for each story puzzle I want to talk about.

You may be at work, going back home, fooling around with friends in a cafe, while you are reading those sentences. Take a look around you. Can you see those fella over the window, the other one in a state of almost sleep, somebody else playing with their mobile phone? Each one has a story inside that we can also imagine. Those pictures are my daily doses of inspiration. And all I need is to move my footsteps out to the world.

Let the desk in my home be the last place for writing, only for final editing and only when the weather doesn’t favour me.

So, which is your favourite place to write?
And what would you like me to write about next?

They have traveled far away from their place. Different images of nature have replaced those of gunpowder smokes. Instead, the only grey they could see was that That cloudy, moody sky, that hasn’t changed too much since last week. Raindrops kept falling on our heads and our only way of protection were those feeble branches with few leaves still hanging from their edges. Our supplies have finished and the only sign of water could be found down to the river, but its freshness was questioned.

Nobody knew those places, not even an inch, not by coming for a holiday trip in the past. Some postcards with beautiful sunsets and idyllic beaches, tourists, adults and kids, relaxing as the waves were caressing their feet. On the contrary, they haven’t got those feelings so far, except dirt, mud and dust as their daily and sole partners.

“Mama, my stomach aches and can’t walk for now. I’m hungry and my mouth is dry” cried out loud a little boy, about six to seven years old “when are we going to arrive? are we close?”.

A gentle, slim figure of a twenty – something woman bent on the little boy. She stroke his head lovingly and left a dim smile to appear on her face. She couldn’t allow her exhaustion to affect her fondess. From her characteristics somebody could distinguish her fatigue all over her figure. A face covered with mud and few scars, her clothes with holes that were tried to be covered roughly and her hands injured and dried by the wind and drought.

“We are almost there my love” she replied “I know that you have made a great effort until now but you have to be patient for a while. We are almost there”.

“And where are we going to stay? Do we have a home in that place we are heading?”

She tried to hold herself, no tears should appear on her face. Keeping calm was one of her major role that she had to play. If not she, then who could do it?

“Yes my little boy. You will see, everything will be good again.” she said without even believing her own words “Mum will provide you with everything and you are not going to miss a thing!”.

She grabbed him from his waist and raised him on her arms. Even though some days have passed with only one meal for the whole time, from the daylight to the night, and her son has lost weight as she also, her arms didn’t feel so weak. Only her power of will was enough to continue their way.

Her head turned again to the river. Across their way, the other place they had to reach. She could direct her gaze to the moving water, as the wind was blowing, dragging liquid and solid elements together and rain has joined his party again.

But they had to move on. Somebody, somewhere across that place was waiting. For those newcomers. For those “outcast of luck”, longing for that clear sky, crystal sea, bright future.

As I captured the scenery in this photo, different stories came to my head. My last choice was that little glimpse of light inside this blackness one can find. And I admire those people that never surrender.

We sat by the fire. Sawdust and ashes were scattered around or even swept in the air, making the scenery around us even more magical. Having bonfires close to the sea was one of our favourites, especially if it was served with cold beers, sometimes with sweets. No waves could be seen and the sun has set a few hours ago. Thankfully, blackness has been intruded by the light of the fire, so we could see each other faces when we were talking.

“And how we ended up being 40…” said a blond woman named Jane, sitting next to me “it seems like years rushed when we had the time of our lives, but they only left us with memories, good or bad. It’s a shame that we haven’t still managed to create an alternative to a typical time machine. Oh, how I wish that I could live my childish years like forever or when I first entered college having no clue at all what was waiting for me at the corner…”.

“But still, you managed to go through all of this, without getting stuck, without losing valuable time. At least, you are one of those people that do not need to worry about what’s coming next, right?” Tom replied directly to an imaginary, hypothetical question of her.

“What makes you feel so nostalgic? Life comes and goes, that’s its natural circle and you should better accept now that you can” he continued.

“But what has made you feel this way?” now I was the curious one “is a happy moment that you are missing right now that can’t be compared with your present, is somebody beloved far gone and you can’t find contact? Maybe that feeling of incompletness that have reached you in your 40s?

“I may go for the last one, it sums up all the rest. Because, there were few happy moments that I had the chance to enjoy to the fullest, imporatant people, not many but counted on the fingers of both of my palms, that I wish I could say a word with them, even a 5-minute will be ample. Or take the risk when it was worth the feeling, or travel when my program was free and I was young with less worries in my head.”

“Do you know why most of the time, if not always, you didn’t come all the way to those things?” I told her.

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Because you used to repeat one word when somebody or even yourself might have come to question those choices” I replied.

“And which is..?”.

“Later” I responded and I turned my eyes up to the night, full of stars, bright sky.

I’m stuck. My mind doesn’t work as I wanted to be and I feel that I have lost my way. Plans about getting that job in the future seems unreachable. How, when, should I, can I, would I…. questions , simple as that, wander inside my head.

I’m stuck, I told you. At first, I thought it was easy, to do this and that, and follow the rules. The rules. But life does not go with the flow, cooperate with your present to fulfill each one’s dreams. It’s funny saying this when you reach your mid 20s and you feel like your time has been wasted to things, once important but nowdays seem more than meaningless to you.

One day I wanted to make my own bucket list, like traveling there, doing this, completing that certain level in my life. I grabbed my computed for my own comfort and wrote down what I would like to do by the end of that year, how I believe my life should or may roll on until I got 30. To be honest, I have almost forgot where I have saved that document, so I decided to revise my expectancies once more, before applying it to the time – shelve.

I’m stuck but I still have faith and I wonder. That one day, I would be reading those words without despair about who am I and where I am going. Ah and also, I would have published my own book. Yes, one with a proper title and my name on it. And if I could be better in English, you may come across it one day.

Will it come with the light of a morning sun, a moment of irrisistable fun, or possibly with a smile?

My first wish when I was a child was to play all time around, later I’ve seen that, except it was impossible, more things might bring me joy. I learnt to read, to draw, to write and once I was seven years old I decided that I might fulfill the same wish I keep replying until today, to write a damn book, good enough to make me proud and hopefully the ones that could read it.

But I learnt the hard way that what you Desire, even it is human, thing, or non material, would not be yours without action. Because action will lead you to that success you dreamed once in a while, but your daily routine,inner thoughts and abscence of motivation keep you off the track.